


If you’ve got it, haunt it

by stealing-jasons-job (changingthefairy_tale)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, But like not scary, But like soft™ enemies to lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Haunted Houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27294172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changingthefairy_tale/pseuds/stealing-jasons-job
Summary: There are two things you need to know about Clarke Griffin. First, she does not fuck with anything horror-related. Second, and more importantly, she is almost incapable of backing down from a challenge. Obviously, these two character traits do not always mix well, especially when her new friend’s asshole of an older brother is around.Or the one where Bellamy teases her about not going with the group to a haunted house. So of course she ends up going.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 145
Collections: bellarkescord halloween gift exchange





	If you’ve got it, haunt it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theinvisibledisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibledisaster/gifts).



> This fic was done as part of a Halloween gift exchange in thebellarkes discord! Hope you all like it. 💕💕💕

There are two things you need to know about Clarke Griffin. First, she does not fuck with anything horror-related. Second, and more importantly, she is almost incapable of backing down from a challenge. Obviously, these two character traits do not always mix well, especially when her new friend’s asshole of an older brother is around. 

“Are you coming with us next weekend?” Raven asks excitedly as she plops down on the couch next to Clarke. It’s Wednesday — weekly game night with her new group of friends — and they were all crowded around Jasper and Monty’s coffee table about to play some elaborate drinking game that somehow combined Killer Uno with tequila shots. 

Clarke had moved to Arkadia a few months ago, and she’d met Octavia at work. They both worked for the fire department — Octavia as a firefighter and Clarke as the medic assigned to the search and rescue team. The two women had immediately clicked, and Octavia had introduced Clarke to the whole gang. She just...fit with the group, as if she was made to be part of their merry band of adult misfits. 

Well, she  _ mostly  _ fit with the group. There was just one little hiccup. 

“I doubt the Princess is up for roughing it for a night,” Bellamy scoffs from the recliner he’d claimed from the moment he got there, his deep voice mocking as he sips on his beer. 

“Funny, the Princess doesn’t remember asking your opinion,” she shoots back with a sugar sweet smile dripping with sarcasm. God, he is such a dick. 

Bellamy Blake is a thorn in Clarke’s side and the bane of her new existence in Arkadia. Since the moment they met, he’s been determined to hate her, and it’s infuriating. He’d given her a once-over as soon as Octavia had introduced them, and that was it. 

“Do not make us separate you two so early into the evening,” Miller cuts in, a stern finger to both of them. Their friends are used to breaking apart their arguments at this point, and Bellamy just puts his hands up in mock surrender before he takes another sip of his beer. 

Clarke tries to be civil, she really does, but she’s also not one to back down from a fight. Plus, the minor hurt of being disliked aside, she enjoys verbally sparring with him, getting him riled up until his jaw ticks in that incredibly hot way. 

Yeah, Bellamy is an ass. But he’s a gorgeous ass, and Clarke is unashamed to admit that fact. 

“So as I was saying before  _ someone _ decided to be a dick,” Raven continues dramatically, shooting Bellamy a glare. “Every year, we pick a different haunted house and stay the night on the Friday closest to Halloween. We play card games, bring creepy candles, tell ghost stories, and try to figure out if the place is actually haunted.” 

Raven is talking animatedly about this, so she must be super excited. And part of Clarke wants to be equally as excited for it. But… we’re back to one of the things you have to know about Clarke. Her and scary shit do not mix. 

She wouldn’t call herself a scaredy cat. She can hold her own in stressful and even scary situations — hell, she has to at work on a regular basis. If there’s ever an apocalypse, she’s the girl you should call. But until the world finally decides to descend into said apocalypse, Clarke would prefer to stay far away from all things horror-related. 

“I don’t know…” 

“See, Raven? I’m telling you. She’s not going to want to spend the night in a sleeping bag on the floor of some abandoned house,” Bellamy says, that stupid, smug smirk on his face as if he’s won some imaginary victory. 

“You’re the old man who complains about his back every time he falls asleep on the couch. I can handle a sleeping bag just fine, asshole.” 

“Oh, so you’re just afraid of the haunted house. That’s why you don’t want to go,” he shoots back, arms crossed over his chest. Monty and Miller both groan, leaning into each other, as Jasper puts his hands over his ears. 

“Here we go…” Raven rolls her eyes, slumping against the couch cushions. 

“You think I’m scared of a little haunted house?” she asks as she leans forward, eyes lit up in amusement. Yes, she is a touch scared of a little haunted house. But damn if she’s going to let Bellamy fucking Blake know that. 

“I think you’re scared of something.” He leans forward on his knees, matching her own body language. The move forces the blue henley he’s wearing to tighten across his biceps, which Clarke definitely notices. 

She gives him a blatant once-over, dismissive in nature as she narrows her eyes, a smirk on her face. When she reaches his eyes, they’re darkened, staring right back at her. 

“I think  _ you’re _ scared of me going and seeing you tremble like a little bitch at the first sign of trouble.” 

“I swear to god, if you two would bang already, we could dispense with this stupid rivalry you have going,” Murphy grumbles under his breath from his spot next to Bellamy. There are a few agreeing hums from the rest of the group, but Clarke and Bellamy don’t break eye contact. 

Somewhere deep down, Clarke knows she’s going to regret this. But her inability to back down from such an obvious challenge is currently winning out against her personal preference to avoid potentially haunted spaces. 

“Raven, I think I will join you guys. Just tell me when and where.” She shoots him a smile laced with venom. 

“Brave Princess,” he mocks, sitting back in his chair. Clarke can’t help the sinking feeling that he got what he wanted out of the argument, but it’s too late to back down now. She’s in this shit. 

***

As they pull up in front of the house, Clarke is already kicking herself for agreeing to this. All because of fucking Bellamy and his stupid challenging smirk. 

“Alright kiddies, we’re here!” Raven announces, putting her old Rover in park and hopping out, careful not to land too hard on her braced leg. 

As Clarke gets out and peers at their home for the next 16 hours, give or take, she mentally kicks herself again. One day, she’s going to have to get over this whole inability to back down from a fight, especially fights with Bellamy. It’s a character flaw, really. 

The haunted house  _ looks  _ haunted, though she wouldn’t expect anything less from the likes of Raven, Monty, and Jasper, who are the unofficial organizers of the annual Halloween haunted house adventure the group goes on each year. 

The guys grab the coolers while the ladies handle the sleeping bags, and they all trek up to the old house. The door was unlocked, and it whooshed 

“Are we even allowed to be here?” Clarke asks cautiously as she looks around. The inside looks admittedly better than the outside, cleaner with white cloths draped over the furniture as if it was the set of a Jane Austen movie adaptation. 

“Scared already?” Bellamy comes up behind her, nudging her shoulder with his own. She makes a face at him. 

“Excuse me for preferring to not get arrested for trespassing.” 

“Pity. I bet you’d look good in cuffs,” he counters, voice low enough so the others likely wouldn’t have heard. She combats a shiver that threatens to make its way down her spine at the innuendo, turning to pin him with a mocking smirk instead. 

“In. Your. Dreams.” He just waggles his eyebrows at her as she pushes him away. He’s going to be insufferable tonight, she can already tell. But a small smile is playing at the corners of her mouth as she turns away regardless. 

They explore a little, and Clarke feels a bit better. Yes, the place looks hella creepy from the outside, but it wasn’t as decrepit on the inside. The floorboards were creaky and there was a definite draftiness to the old house, but it wasn’t awful. Clarke could handle it for one night. 

They get set up in the living room, electing to keep the white clothes covering the furniture and camping out around the coffee table on the floor. They’d brought snacks and booze, as well as a ton of candles and a few flashlights. The house didn’t have electricity, so it got darker as nighttime fell. 

When they are all together, it’s almost normal. They sit around in a circle, drinking and playing assorted games. They play Uno, a group favorite, before switching to Kemps and then poker. 

Monty and Jasper take turns telling ghost stories that were more comical than scary, and Clarke is doubled over in stitches of laughter by the end. It’s a good night overall. Maybe the place wasn’t haunted after all. 

Of course, that feeling starts to fade once it’s time to split up to their respective rooms to sleep. Octavia and Raven are camping out in the living room, Miller and Monty are sharing the bedroom on the bottom floor, and Jasper, Bellamy, and Clarke each get their own room upstairs. 

As they start to disperse, shit starts to get a bit real. First, the candles get blown out. Which, fine. It could have been the wind. It’s a drafty old house, after all. 

But then a few minutes later, as they are making their way up stairs, a door shuts in another part of the house. Clarke jumps a little at the sound. She feels a large, warm hand on her back, which surprisingly relaxes her. 

But then she realizes whose hand it is, and she turns to look at him. For a split second, their eyes meet, and she swears she isn’t imagining the way they dart down to her mouth. But then Jasper huffs behind Bellamy, reminding them that they’d stopped midway up the staircase, and he moves his hand and looks away. Moment over. 

They split up in the different bedrooms upstairs, and Clarke is left in a bedroom alone. She fucking hates it. She stays up on her phone for a while, hoping scrolling through Instagram would calm her down. But the longer she’s awake, the more antsy she gets. 

Every single little noise is freaking her out. The window keeps creaking and she swears the floorboards in the corner are settling in a weird way. She keeps flashing her phone’s flashlight over to that part of the room, but there’s nothing there.  _ Nothing you can see anyway,  _ she thinks to herself. 

She’s going to go insane by morning. She should have never said yes to this stupid haunted house nightmare. Fuck her pride, why couldn’t she have just let him win the argument? Lots of people don’t like haunted houses; it’s not some crazy weakness she’d be giving into. 

When it’s a little past 2:30 AM, Clarke decides she’s had enough. She’s going back downstairs to throw her sleeping back beside Raven and Octavia. At least with the two of them nearby, she’d likely be able to get a few hours of sleep in. 

She tiptoes down the hallway toward the stairs, sleeping bag in tow, but she stops when she gets to the first door on the right. It’s open, and she can see Bellamy propped up on his elbow, reading a book with the light of his flashlight. She shifts, trying to make out the title of the book he’s reading, but the floorboards creak beneath her, and his eyes whip up to meet hers. 

He smirks at her, and she feels like she’s been caught. Though doing what, she doesn’t know. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asks quietly. She shakes her head, and he gestures for her to come in. He must be able to see her watch him suspiciously because he chuckles softly. “I won’t bite.” 

She narrows her eyes at him in the dark, but she slowly makes her way into the room and plops her sleeping bag next to his on the rug. 

“Well, unless you ask me to, anyway,” he adds, and she pinches him in the side as she sits. 

“Ass.” 

He just sticks his tongue out at her in jest, dog-earning his book and setting it aside to sit up next to her. 

“What are you reading?” she asks, hesitantly. It strikes her that this is the first time they’ve ever actually been alone. They typically only see each other at group functions or when she comes over to see Octavia at their shared apartment. 

“The Space Between the Stars by Anne Corlett,” he says, showing her the cover. “It’s about a woman who finds her way back home to Earth. It’s really good, so far.” 

Clarke hums her response, taking the book and flipping through the pages. The summary on the inside cover is intriguing, and Clarke makes a mental note to add it to her audiobook list. She rarely has time to read with her schedule at the firehouse, but she listens to audiobooks on her way in to her shifts in the mornings. 

“The main character actually reminds me of you a little,” he says after a beat, voice hesitant. It’s weird to hear him sound unsure of himself, as if he’s testing the waters of this apparent truce between them right now. Normally, he was all bravado and snark. But this Bellamy was softer. She kind of liked it. 

“How so?” 

He lifts a hand to the back of his neck, telling Clarke that he was sheepish about his admission. “I don’t know… she just does.” Clarke doesn’t respond, wanting him to continue. She’s curious why he’d think the heroine of this story is anything like her, someone he typically acts like he hates. 

“She’s got this fire within her,” he continues at last, voice almost as low as a whisper. “Doesn’t take anyone’s shit, doesn’t let anything or anyone break her…you’ve got the same fire in your eyes every time we argue.” 

Clarke’s thankful for the shadows cast by the flashlight so that Bellamy can’t see the blush that’s rising up her cheeks. She’s not comfortable accepting compliments in the best of circumstances, and certainly not from Bellamy in the middle of the dark. 

“Is that why you’re determined to push my buttons every chance you get?” she deflects easily, still not looking up at him. She can feel his eyes studying her in the dark, and she feels herself getting nervous for a reason entirely unrelated to the haunted house. 

“You like it.” His voice is teasing, but not in the harsh way he usually does. No, this is more affectionate, familiar. As if they’re friends, or something more. Clarke finds herself leaning toward him in the dark, a little intoxicated by this new version of Bellamy. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispers into the space between them. When he doesn’t respond, she takes that as her signal to keep going. “I hate haunted houses.” 

He laughs softly, unsurprised at her admission. “Yeah, Octavia may have mentioned that you weren’t big on Halloween when we were first making plans this year.” 

Clarke reached out to punch his arm, but she’s grinning. “So you goaded me into going on purpose? God, you’re an ass.” 

He just continues laughing silently beside her, and she shakes her head at him. 

Suddenly, a door slams somewhere downstairs, and they both jump. Almost on instinct, Clarke’s hand reaches out to grab onto Bellamy’s leg. Once her heart rate has a second to return to normal, she realizes what she’s done. 

Their eyes meet in the dark, both of them breathing heavier than normal after the sudden noise. But before Clarke can pull her hand back, one of Bellamy’s hands covers hers as his other comes up to thread into her hair. Before Clarke can fully gauge what’s happening, they’re both leaning in, their mouths meeting in the middle. 

The kiss is soft, gentle — like he’s asking a question. It’s not what she would have expected from Bellamy, who was usually all hard edges. And it’s nice, but Clarke wants more. 

She leans further into him, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and deepening the kiss. Her free hand reaches up to thread itself in his curls, pulling him closer. That must have been the answer he was looking for, because he tilts her head to the side to give him better access before darting his tongue out to trace the seam of her lips. She opens for him, and the kiss goes from exploratory to downright dirty in a matter of seconds. 

After what could have been seconds or minutes, Clarke has no clue, they pull apart to catch their breaths. His forehead rests against hers, and she keeps her eyes closed as she comes back to her senses. 

Holy shit, she just kissed Bellamy. 

She feels rather than hears the chuckle he releases as he leans back in for a quick kiss, this one more chaste. “That you did.” Fuck, she must have said that out loud. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He mimics her earlier question, his thumb tracing along her jawline, his forehead still connected to hers. 

“Mmhmm,” she breathes, not quite trusting of her voice at the moment. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” 

She pulls back at that, wanting to meet his eyes. He looks nervous, shy. She can’t help the smile that blooms across her face. 

“I was under the distinct impression that you hated me,” she tells him, biting her lip. He catches the movement and leans back in to kiss her again, his tongue darting out to sooth where her teeth had just been. 

“I think I was intimidated by you at first. You were this new person who seemed like you had it all figured out. It was obvious you came from money, and you were just so sure of yourself. I felt the need to knock you down a few pegs,” he admits. 

“While also wanting to kiss me?” she asks, eyebrows raised in amusement. He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“No, that came later. You were gorgeous, that much I knew from the moment I met you. But then you fit so well into the group. And it turned out you were smart with that wicked sense of humor. The more I pushed your buttons, the more you pushed back. It became a game, getting into those screaming matches with you, one I begrudgingly looked forward to playing every time you were around.” 

This time it’s Clarke’s turn to lean in for another kiss, this time shifting so that she was in his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“If you wanted to hear me scream,” she says between kisses, “there are much better ways to accomplish that.” 

He curses at that, him pulling her hard against his chest as he captures her mouth with his. They stop talking for a little while after that, melting into each other. But soon, Clarke feels herself wanting more, her hips grinding down on him almost of their own accord. 

He pulls back, a frustrated groan escaping. 

“You have no idea how badly I want you right now. But I am not fucking you for the first time in a haunted house with my sister downstairs.” She giggles at that, circling her hips once more just to drive him a little mad. It does the job, and he curses as his hands grip her waist almost painfully. 

With a final kiss to the underside of his jaw, she swings herself off of him. They sink down to lay facing each other in their sleeping bags, smiling like idiots at the other. 

“So is this truce a one-time-only event?” she asks sleepily, her eyes starting to close against her will. 

“Like I said, I’ll only bite if you ask me to.” He reaches a hand out and finds her hip, pulling her closer to him. She snuggles into his chest, breathing him in and relaxing instantly. Before she knows it, she’s fast asleep with Bellamy’s arms around her. 

Octavia finds them in the morning, curled up together. “Now there’s something I thought I’d never see,” she chuckles from the doorway as Clarke and Bellamy both start to wake up. She sneaks a peek at him from below still-sleepy lashes to find him smiling. 

Clarke decides maybe she doesn’t hate haunted houses so much after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it! Just a reminder that I'm participating in The 100 Fic for BLM initiative, where you can prompt me for fics (or WIP updates) in exchange for any size donations to any BLM-supporting organization! You can check out the [intiative's Cardd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) for more details.


End file.
